Part 77 (1/2)

'Ay, ay--in ringen--but I was spaken in a spiritual sense o' this mornen's business o' mine up by the chancel rails there. 'Twas very convenient to lug her here and marry her instead o' doen it at that twopenny-halfpenny town o' Budm'th. Very convenient.'

'Very. There was a little fee for Master Crickett.'

'Ah--well. Money's money--very much so--very--I always have said it. But 'twas a pretty sight for the nation. He coloured up like any maid, that 'a did.'

'Well enough 'a mid colour up. 'Tis no small matter for a man to play wi' fire.'

'Whatever it may be to a woman,' said the clerk absently.

'Thou'rt thinken o' thy wife, clerk,' said Gad Weedy. 'She'll play wi'it again when thou'st got mildewed.'

'Well--let her, G.o.d bless her; for I'm but a poor third man, I. The Lord have mercy upon the fourth!... Ay, Teddy's got his own at last. What little white ears that maid hev, to be sure! choose your wife as you choose your pig--a small ear and a small tale--that was always my joke when I was a merry feller, ah--years agone now! But Teddy's got her.

Poor chap, he was getten as thin as a hermit wi' grief--so was she.'

'Maybe she'll pick up now.'

'True--'tis nater's law, which no man shall gainsay. Ah, well do I bear in mind what I said to Pa'son Raunham, about thy mother's family o'

seven, Gad, the very first week of his comen here, when I was just in my prime. ”And how many daughters has that poor Weedy got, clerk?” he says.

”Six, sir,” says I, ”and every one of 'em has a brother!” ”Poor woman,”

says he, ”a dozen children!--give her this half-sovereign from me, clerk.” 'A laughed a good five minutes afterwards, when he found out my merry nater--'a did. But there, 'tis over wi' me now. Enteren the Church is the ruin of a man's wit for wit's nothen without a faint shadder o'

sin.'

'If so be Teddy and the lady had been kept apart for life, they'd both ha' died,' said Gad emphatically.

'But now instead o' death there'll be increase o' life,' answered the clerk.

'It all went proper well,' said the fifth bell-ringer. 'They didn't flee off to Babylonish places--not they.' He struck up an att.i.tude--'Here's Master Springrove standen so: here's the married woman standen likewise; here they d'walk across to Knapwater House; and there they d'bide in the chimley corner, hard and fast.'

'Yes, 'twas a pretty wedden, and well attended,' added the clerk. 'Here was my lady herself--red as scarlet: here was Master Springrove, looken as if he half wished he'd never a-come--ah, poor souls!--the men always do! The women do stand it best--the maid was in her glory. Though she was so shy the glory shone plain through that shy skin. Ah, it did so's.'

'Ay,' said Gad, 'and there was Tim Tankins and his five journeymen carpenters, standen on tiptoe and peepen in at the chancel winders.

There was Dairyman Dodman waiten in his new spring-cart to see 'em come out--whip in hand--that 'a was. Then up comes two master tailors.

Then there was Christopher Runt wi' his pickaxe and shovel. There was wimmen-folk and there was men-folk traypsen up and down church'ard till they wore a path wi' traypsen so--letten the squallen children slip down through their arms and nearly skinnen o' em. And these were all over and above the gentry and Sunday-clothes folk inside. Well, I seed Mr. Graye at last dressed up quite the dand. ”Well, Mr. Graye,” says I from the top o' church'ard wall, ”how's yerself?” Mr. Graye never spoke--he'd prided away his hearen. Seize the man, I didn' want en to spak. Teddy hears it, and turns round: ”All right, Gad!” says he, and laughed like a boy. There's more in Teddy.'

'Well,' said Clerk Crickett, turning to the man in black, 'now you've been among us so long, and d'know us so well, won't ye tell us what ye've come here for, and what your trade is?'

'I am no trade,' said the thin man, smiling, 'and I came to see the wickedness of the land.'

'I said thou wast one o' the devil's brood wi' thy black clothes,'

replied a st.u.r.dy ringer, who had not spoken before.

'No, the truth is,' said the thin man, retracting at this horrible translation, 'I came for a walk because it is a fine evening.'

'Now let's be off, neighbours,' the clerk interrupted.

The candle was inverted in the socket, and the whole party stepped out into the churchyard. The moon was s.h.i.+ning within a day or two of full, and just overlooked the three or four vast yews that stood on the south-east side of the church, and rose in unvaried and flat darkness against the illuminated atmosphere behind them.

'Good-night,' the clerk said to his comrades, when the door was locked.